Porthos lay back, the mattress squeaked, and he chuckled when Alice rested her head on his shoulder and gently ran her fingers across his chest. The candle in the nightstand flickered and the flame danced and sent shadows across the walls. The room smelled of honey, brandy, wildflowers and pine. He had never felt so content, so at peace, or so fulfilled as he did at that moment. He had loved before, but only briefly, just long enough to tease his heart, and remind him of what he had lost. But now the woman he had met because of a challenge… a widow, and a woman who knew her own mind lay beside him.

There was a moment when his position, his life as a soldier no longer mattered, and the only thing that did was who he was as a man, and now, who he was as a husband. He would keep his promise and do everything he could to return to her. He wanted to have children with her, he wanted to grow old beside her, and he wanted her beside him as he spent the rest of his life defending his homeland. Porthos was a soldier, it's what drove him, what made him get up in the mornings, and what made him the man he was.

Alice knew that. She admired him for it, but it terrified her. She didn't want to lose him, not now, not after two years of allowing her previous bias to decide her fate. The more she thought about it, the more angry at herself she became. Alice abhorred violence, despised it, but she was starting to understand that the violence of soldiering was different than the violence of angry, abusive, and jealous men. To try and change Porthos would change the man she had fallen in love with, the same man who defended his friends, brothers, and his captain.

The man who would defend her.

Alice smiled as she gently ran her fingers over Porthos' left side. "When you were a boy…" She raised herself onto her elbow and turned to look at him. Her hair fell around her shoulders and across his chest. "What did you want to be?"

Porthos smiled. "I wanted to be king."

Alice laughed, and then with a generous smile, said, "You would make a great king."

"I would be a terrible king," he admitted, "I'm a much better duke — even King Louis thinks so."

Alice frowned and looked at him. "Nobility?"

Porthos grin grew in size and he said, "The men call me the Duke de Gluttony."

Alice chuckled and said, "A way to man's heart is through his stomach. My mother once said."

Porthos grew quiet and ran his fingers along her spine as she rested against him. "While I'm away —"

"I don't want to think about it," she said and rested her chin on his chest. "Just come home… I don't care about anything else."

"This is not my first war."

"Just come home, Porthos." She inhaled deeply through her nose and then licked her bottom lip. "I never feared being alone… not until now." She curled her lips into a sad smile. "I've always had a simple life and I've grown comfortable with that… but I want to share it with you, and maybe one day," she shrugged, "with our children."

Porthos tightened his stomach muscles as he sat up slightly and kissed her forehead. "I want that too," he said. "Children who enjoy food as much as I do."

Again, Alice laughed. "Or better yet, children who tease like their father." She lowered her head back to his chest. "I want boys," she said.

Porthos nodded, boys or girls, he didn't care as long as they were healthy and Alice would be beside him as they raised their children. He quirked a smile, thinking of the others and what it would be like for children to be running around the garrison. "You should get to know Constance better… she'll be a comfort to you while I'm away."

"She's going to help me repair my mother's old coverlet that she stitched years ago."

"Good," Porthos said, "that's good."

They listened to the cracking of the flame as it continued to burn. A window was open, but only a crack to allow the cool breeze to enter the room. The stars twinkled, and the moon's rays fluctuated from bright to dim as the clouds moved past. The could hear the water outside as it slapped the bank, as well as the sounds of Paris' nightlife.

Alice watched the shadows dance along the walls, and she listened to Porthos' heartbeat as she rested against him.

Porthos continued to stroke her back and listen to hear breathe. Everything was about to change. His soft comfortable bed would be replaced with the hard ground. Meals would be plain and, if supplies grew short, few and far between. Days would grow long as the fighting continued, and musket powder and smoke would be the scents he would grow most familiar with in the months to come. Not that he wasn't already overly familiar with them, but living with the constant inundation of it was something he had not encountered in years. The battlefields would look like heavy fog and men were more at risk of shooting friends than they were of shooting the enemy. Porthos closed his eyes. The Musketeers were a solid regiment of good soldiers, but many were young and had never faced the threat of war. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and thought about those he trusted, and those who trusted him. His men, his company would do their best to protect themselves and each other from uncertain attacks. The others, Aramis', d'Artagnan's, Marc's and Levi's too would be the best they could be.

But life was always full of the unexpected, the unknown, and the uncertain. Porthos looked again and watched the moon's rays enter through the window and cast light against the far wall, highlighting the painting of a woman with a child. A comforting smile came to his face as he felt Alice breathe heavily as sleep was finally awarded to her.